


The Dark Court

by neogenesis85



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark Fantasy, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, lots of proper nouns, not really a crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neogenesis85/pseuds/neogenesis85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie lived in a world ruled by magic and when her Craft is awakened she becomes the spark which rekindles a war that almost tore the world apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no business writing this, but the plot bunny just wouldn't let me go and when I sat down to finish writing the next chapter of Born Under a Bad Sign, this came out instead. It's not truly a crossover, it's more of an AU with heavy influence from Anne Bishop's The Black Jewels series. The only faces that will be seen are from the show, but I'll be using The Dark Jewels mythos more so than anything else.
> 
> This is a going to be a bit of a Bonnie/harem fic. But the main pairings are Klonnie with a side of Bamon. Others will be sorted out later.
> 
> There's a bit of background in the end notes for those who aren't familiar with Boshop's novels.

This wasn't the first time that Greta Martin had dealt with a higher member of the Blood caste. But it was the first time she'd been summoned by one without her mentor there to stand by her side. The hourglass pendant that rested between her breasts, both the top and bottom filled with gold sand, felt noticeably heavy around her neck.  
She shifted in the plush leather chair she was perched on, trying not the let the man sitting across from her know just how on edge she was. Nothing about this situation was good. Nothing about _him_ was any good.  
  
There was an air of volatility surrounding him. A sense of barely contained fury that made the fine hairs along her neck and arms stand on end. It flowed and ebbed in the psychic streams around them like a tide, making her heart beat just a little bit faster and sending icy shots of adrenaline at odd intervals through her veins. Despite this she still found him handsome in an old fashioned sort of way, with a slightly pronounced brow and hair grown out long enough to show a hint of natural curls. The pale flesh over his high cheek bones was flushed, letting her know he'd fed recently. His lips, almost unnaturally red and full, were pulled to one side in a condescending smirk. He watched her, amusement reading clear on his face, as she tried her best not to squirm with nerves under his unblinking stare.  
  
She felt very foolish all of a sudden. It was pure rebellion that had her traveling through the threads to the Landing Web in an upscale Casablancan hotel. It was nothing but bravado with a side order of spite that lead her to the concierge desk to announce her arrival, pointedly ignoring the unwanted presence of her brother at her side as they rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite. She thought she had the guts, the imaginary balls to pull this off without breaking a sweat.  
  
It wasn't until she was face to face with him that she started to reconsider her choice. Sure, she'd had plans to get back at her father, who wanted her to slow down in her training before she did something she regretted. And her teacher, Ayanna, who thought she was too big for the Jewels she held. But Greta didn't see it that way. She was the first ever to hold an Opal Jewels in her family, the highest Birthright of any Martin. And she was determined to go even darker when she made her offering in a few months' time. Even if it meant lending her skills without the consent of Ayanna or the coven that was responsible for her tutelage.  
  
But when she answered the anonymous ad online seeking a Black Widow to discreetly weave a web she hadn't been expecting what she'd haughtily walked in to.  
  
A damn Warlord Prince.  
  
Not only that, but a Warlord Prince who possessed Red Jewels which dangled from an engraved metal collar there to let the world know he was a very strong, very disobedient boy.  
  
She sat back in the chair, forcing an air of detachment she didn't really feel. Considering her options, she reached out subtly with her magic, trying to get an impression of exactly who and what she was dealing with. A part of their arrangement prior to meeting was no exchanging of names or background information. She'd been fine with that until she'd walked into the suite and felt the raw power seeping out of him like a leaking faucet. It made both her and her brother pause in surprise as they crossed the threshold.  
  
He'd done nothing but smile at their discomfort, waving towards the unoccupied sitting room furniture and telling them to make themselves at home. He offered drinks and she'd been tempted for half a second to ask for a scotch just to tramp down the apprehension churning her stomach, but both she and Luka settled for bottled water instead. He parked himself on the couch that matched the ridiculously comfortable loveseat she took, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee and did nothing but watch them in apparent glee.  
  
" _This is insane, Greta_ ," Luka spoke in her mind, using a personal thread she could only hope the Warlord Prince wasn't able to hear. " _We shouldn't be here. And if we make it out of this room in one piece I'm going the ring your neck, which will be better than what Dad is going to do to you when I tell him about this_."  
  
He was standing behind her and the protective hand he'd placed on her shoulder earlier tightened to emphasize his point. Despite the slight discomfort she was glad he insisted on traveling with her once he figured out what she was up to. He was the incentive she needed to see this through to the end. Leaving would be the smart thing to do and she knew it. But she wasn't going to run back home like a frightened dog with her tail tucked between her legs. Not as long as Luka was a witness. There would be no living with him afterwards. He would use the act as a counter to every irrational thing he thought she planned to do in the future. Her pride couldn't take it and it would be just another entry in The Greta Martin Compilation of Bad Decisions book her family catalogued that was slowly turning into a tome.  
  
" _Chill, Luka. I've got this completely under control_."  
  
" _By the Darkness, you have got to be the most bullheaded girl I have ever met!_ " She could practically feel his eye roll. " _There's a thin line between ambition and grade A stupidity Greta, and you've finally crossed it_."  
  
" _And the harder you guys keep trying to hold me back the harder I'm going to push. It's a fact you just don't seem to understand. This isn't me rebelling. It's me once again trying to rise to my full potential and my family, the people that are supposed to love and support me telling me my aspirations are wrong_."  
  
She paused, taking a calming breath even though she wasn't speaking out loud. " _So could you please for once not ride my ass and just have my back? Because I can do this_."  
  
He was giving in. She could feel it.  
  
" _I hope you're right. 'Cause all that drive you have won't mean squat if you get us both killed by a disgruntled Lord that obviously has some anger management issues_."  
  
At her brother's words her gaze, which had been holding the strangers eyes, moved down to the ring around his neck. This was the first time she'd ever seen anyone wearing a Ring of Obedience, human or Blood alike. Most courts considered the act barbaric and had moved on from the practice, using it only in the most extreme of cases. Though there were a still a handful of Queens that tended to lean towards a more… sadistic way of ruling. She wondered who the Lady was that bound him. Was she one that thrived off pain and blood? Or was the collar put there because _he_ did?  
  
Either way it scared her more than the Jewels that he possessed. Warlord Princes where predatory and aggressive by nature, requiring a delicate hand at keeping them reigned in. Greta was well versed in the rules and protocol necessary to control that hair trigger of theirs. Though she'd never been face to face with a Warlord Prince long enough to put them into practice. And certainly not one that had to be controlled to such a degree. She'd always been abrasive and proud of it, bulldozing her way into getting what she wanted when and how she wanted it. This was a time she almost regretted that quality. She wasn't sure she had enough tact to keep him from rising to a killing edge and painting the walls with her and Luka's blood.  
  
As if reading her thoughts, he reached up with one hand to finger the delicate silver around his neck. "Does this bother you, Journey's Maid?"  
  
She swallowed and Luka tensed behind her. There were several ways she could play it but she figured honesty was the best way to go.  
  
Clearing her throat she shrugged. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't."  
  
He chuckled, a rumbling sound that seemed to resonate from deep within his chest before leaning back onto the couch. "Truthfully, it bothers me too. It's one of the reasons I require your service."  
  
She frowned. The only persons that could remove the collar were the Queen who melded it to him or a particularly talented healer. She was neither of those things.  
Luka seemed to be under the same train of thought because he spoke for the first time since politely asking for a drink. "I thought you needed a Black Widow?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Then you should find another Witch. She doesn't have the Craft for what you're looking for."  
  
Greta bristled, sending a sharp mental jab her brother's way, aggravated with his habit of speaking for or over her when he damn well knew she had a mouth big enough to do it herself.  
  
"I'm well aware of this, young Prince."  
  
The man glanced at Luka and smiled, reveling hidden dimples that seem to take years off his face and she wondered briefly just how old he was. It was hard to tell with Blood.  
  
They didn't age like humans did.  
  
"I only wish for her to walk the Twisted Kingdom and to weave what she sees, just as the ad stated. It's my hope that what's revealed will eventually lead to me being rid of the oppression of this collar."  
  
"Yes." She nodded. "A vision web. But of what?"  
  
"A myth. Another impossibility that everyone insists doesn't exist." He sighed and looked passed them. "And maybe they're right."  
  
The last words were spoken almost as an afterthought, but the ache the admission caused was clear in his voice.  
  
"You'll have to be a little more specific than that," she said, still wary but more curious than she'd been since she walked through the door.  
  
That worked to draw his attention back to her and he sat forward suddenly, the movement fluid but unnaturally fast. She reflexively flinched back and cursed herself for showing that bit of weakness. It didn't seem to matter because he was leaning over to present his hands, the palms facing up.  
  
For the first time since her arrival he lost the air of someone that was privy to an inside joke, the look in his eyes almost beseeching.  
  
"I mean you no harm, Journey's Maid. See me. _Know_ me and you will find my words to be true."  
  
Touching a stranger was an intimate act for a Witch. There was so much she could glean from the simple act of pressing skin against skin. And here he was, a Warlord Prince and a stranger, willing and ready for the act. Even more surprising was the fact that the soft, unprotected flesh of the inside of his wrists was bared. She was taken back, only able to count on one hand the amount of times someone had offered themselves to her that way. Because she was a Black Widow and they were toxic, each and every one known by their naturally black nails and the lethal venom both ring fingers contained. Potent enough that even she had to drain it on occasion or else suffer the effects of her own poison. One prick and she could end him, leaving him to die a slow, agonizing death with no hope for an antidote. He was alone and, judging from the secrecy of their meeting, he probably hadn't told anyone where he was and what he was up to. Which meant he'd be left to rot until someone thought to look for him or the hotel staff was notified by a neighboring room of the smell of his bloating corpse.  
  
She looked down at his exposed skin, the blue veins visible through skin so sallow it was almost translucent. Luka was protesting loudly in her head but she ignored him, reaching across the coffee table that separated them with her much darker hands. She was conflicted, her conscious almost torn in two over what she was getting ready to do. Touching him would change her life; she could feel that down to her marrow. But she was going to do it anyway. It was almost as if she was compelled. Like every fight with her father and Ayanna, every bold move against their wishes had led her to this moment. To meeting him and finally being pointed to a life's path that didn't end with her interpreting dreams and reading palms as parlor tricks in some aristos court. Whatever she was about to get in to was bigger than her family's aspirations for her and most likely dangerous. Deadly dangerous. But she was thirsty for it and the Lord sitting across from her was a very tempting glass of cool water.  
  
She licked her lips as her hands hovered over his, steady despite the excitement of her nerves. She took a moment to admire the difference between their complexions before placing her palms on his.  
  
The vision was instantaneous and brief, but it was enough to leave her breathless.

She found herself standing at a precipice, the ground below her filled with the bodies of fallen men and women. The smell of the dead and the condition they were in turned her stomach sour. She looked to the horizon, fighting nausea and gapping at the scope of the mêlée aftermath laid out before her.  
  
What she mistook as a cliff's edge at first was not. It was a crater, a gapping maw gouged out of the earth by some unimaginable force. And he was in the center of it, mouth dripping with blood from the carnage surrounding and covering him.  
  
She knew this place, knew the massacre that happened there. It was still in the memories and haunted expressions of those who had lived through the war of all wars and survived to see its end. Yes, she knew that story well. The final battle that turned the tide and tore the last remains of the Dark Court apart.  
  
But she didn't know what he was.  
  
His true face was all wrong. The puckering veins around his eyes were normal enough, but the color was off. They were gold instead of bottomless black and glowed fiercely in the waning sunlight. And now that she looked harder, seeing him clearly despite the distance stretched between them, he had two sets of fangs too many.  
  
He wasn't just Blood or Vampire. He was something new. Something wrong. An abomination. An impossibility, as he said earlier, that shouldn't even be extant but none the less was present and breathing before her.  
  
The potential of the revelation, of the chilling and vicious nature of his uncontained power, overwhelmed her and she pulled away from his touch with such force that her brother had to steady the loveseat to keep it from tipping over.  
  
She knew what he wanted, or _who_ he _needed_ now. The collar around his neck was just a placebo, a pitiful attempt to make some Queen believe she had him in check. There was one only one being that could do that and She was dead. Though there were rumors and whispers that passed the lips of Blood that were sick of the hedonism that was so prevalent in post war courts. The history books, always written by the winning side, lied, they said. The war wasn't over and She hadn't been destroyed like they wanted everyone to believe.  
  
" _Greta_!"  
  
She jerked back into the present. Luka was kneeling at her side in an instant, distress and worry clear in his voice. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? What the hell did you do to her?"  
  
He was snapping at the Warlord Prince now, his fear for her overriding any self-preservation he should have about not ruffling his feathers.  
  
"I- I'm okay," she gasped out, placing a hand over her heart to feel its erratic beat.  
  
Luka frowned, grabbing her by the upper arms and pulling her to her feet.  
  
"I'm getting us out of here."  
  
" _Luka, stop_."  
  
" _Fuck no! I was stupid enough to indulge you for this long. I don't know what you saw but the look on your face was enough to let me know we don't need to have anything to do with him or what he wants. Now let's go_!"  
  
He was tugging her away from the sitting room with little success and she finally ripped her gaze from the man watching them to give her brother her full attention.  
  
"I said I'm fine!" She glowered, yanking her arms out of his grasp. "You can leave if you want but I'm staying here. I have a job to do."  
  
Luka narrowed his eyes at her. "This is insane."  
  
"It's what I want. You don't like it, then walk."  
  
She sat back down and crossed her arms, setting her jaw to get her point across even more.  
  
"I believe she's made her decision, young Prince."  
  
Luka gave them both a look so cutting Greta almost felt bad for giving him the ultimatum. After a long moment he exhaled a deep breath and returned to his former position behind her, this time leaning closer to her with both hands resting on the back of the chair.  
  
"So, Black Widow, shall we get started?"  
  
"It's Greta," she said. Things were way beyond anonymity now.  
  
"Ah, derived from Greek. Means pearl. It suits you. I like it." He tilted his head and gave her an appraising look. "I like you."  
  
She felt her face heat up and heard Luka scuff behind her, but that didn't stop her from giving him a saucy smile.  
  
"And what should I call you?"  
  
"Nik is fine."  
  
She crossed her legs and leaned back on the loveseat. "Well, Nik, let's see what I can do about helping you find your myth."  
  
He smiled, those dimples appearing again and she had a sudden feeling that he would be in her life much longer than the time it took her to walk the Twisted Kingdom for him. Though having him there just might cut her time on earth drastically short.


	2. Chapter 2

"I fear what the future holds for us."

Elena placed the delicate china cup down on it's saucer before returning both to the mahogany table in front of her. The black tea felt thick on her tongue as she swallowed, even though she's turned down the cream that was offered. But the warmth and spice of it made it seem that way, the almost peppery flavor of cloves flooding her taste buds and nasal passages.

Lady Pearl wasn't one for indulgences, choosing instead to live as simply as possible despite her standing. But she made an exception for her drink of choice, importing exotic teas from foreign territories that were rife with unrest. Elena hadn't bothered to ask how she came about them, or what it coast her. There were certain privileges afforded to those that were of the Blood, and Pearl used her position as an aristo to get around trade embargos to get a taste of what she liked to call 'home.'

Pearl was in one of her pensive moods today, a state Elena often found her in because even after the war she preferred to uphold the old ways, when Blood and humans lived, for the most part, peacefully. There was of course the inherent power differences between the two, but Queens (and the occasional warlord) used to take care of the non-Blood in their territories. Providing protection for everyone and welfare for anyone who couldn't do for themselves. Now things were reverting back to a baser form of ruling where those with Craft lorded over those without, treating them as serfs. Or, in some cases, turned to flat out slavery.

Ever since the Great Purge, which was what most people called the war, an insidious period in history seemed to be repeating itself. The Dark Court had been formed to end that ill remembered time of Blood drunk on power and self-indulgence. It created a system of checks and balances, holding those that harmed responsible for their actions. It hadn't been perfect and while Qetsiyah (the High Priestess that had taken the initiative by starting the court) had certainly not been the unborn Witch of legend, it  _worked_. It had rules and protocol. Respect was giving only when it was do, not because of caste or Jewel rank. And above all, the most important tenet was followed: Honor, cherish and protect.

Now there was an order with no honor. Justice was doled out not to those who deserved it, but to those who fought to maintain the ways of yesteryear. The world was on the verge of chaos and the Darkness help anyone who wasn't able to protect themselves. Because those that where weak often found themselves kneeling in blood.

Elena swallowed and reached for her tea. She didn't like it when her thoughts went that way. She'd hadn't even been born when the purge began, but she'd certainly been old enough to see what happened to people that fought the new order of things. Queen LaVerna didn't show the slightest bit of leniency to anyone she thought that opposed her. It was her jealousy and madness that systematically destroyed the Black Court and both grew worse the farther her realm expanded.

Queen Pearl had been allowed to keep the territory of Virginia after pledging her fidelity to LaVerna. It was an act of preservation on her part, a way to insure that her court and the subjects under it were safe from the devastation of the purge. But it certainly didn't mean she believed in LaVerna and her cause. Pearl wasn't vocal about her disgust, that would just be foolish, but she didn't exactly hide it either. It showed in they way she ruled. The people, not fearful of a tyrant Queen or someone of a higher caste taking liberties, were actually  _happy_. Aside from the refugee camps that had been set up throughout the state, very few were going unfed, clothed sheltered. And even the camps were in better condition than other territories were all together.

Virginia was as close to pre-war society as one could get, but Elena knew eventually LaVerna's eyes would turn in their direction and Pearl would be forced to bend to her will or be crushed under the force of her ever growing army of allies.

Lady Pearl turned her attention from the window she'd been gazing out of towards her. She took a few graceful steps to the cushioned chair on the other side of the table, tugging the hem of her cream pencil skirt down as she sat and crossed her legs. Elena would be hard pressed to remember seeing her wearing pants. Pearl was always in something chic, her clothing tailored and often handsewn to fit her form. Something Elena didn't have the funds or the fashion preference to accomplish. Though she did feel particularly frumpy compared to her today. The summons for their meeting had come right as she was leaving to join her friends for their weekly lunch. She didn't have time to change out of the skinny jeans and three-quarter sleeved sweater she'd thrown on into something more presentable before riding the Winds to the Landing Web in the Queen's estate to be greeted by Harper, one of the three males in the Pearl's Triangle.

"I know this is unusual," Pearl said and started to prepare herself tea, "Me asking you here on such short notice. But I'm afraid things are starting to escalate and it's time to put plans into motion. Unfortunately some of those plans involved you."

Elena frowned. "I don't understand."

"You've been a part of my court for almost five years now. I've watched you grow from inexperienced witch into a beautiful, compassionate woman. You are your own person and your heart directs you more than any advice I've ever given you. It's a trait that can lead to great or terrible things, depending on the intent with which it's used. But your beliefs are strong enough that I doubt you'd ever be tempted to use it for ill will."

She raised her china and took a sip. "I'm humble enough to admit that I had very little to do with how you've matured. But make no mistake, I  _have_ been grooming you. And for a purpose."

Elena had a sinking suspicion where the conversation was heading and she hastily sat her cup and saucer back on the table.

"My Lady, I don't think-"

Pearl held up a hand to silence her and Elena closed her mouth so fast her she heard her teeth clatter together.

"You are Queen, Elena. Whether you want to be or not. You have no say in which gifts the Darkness grants you. Hiding your head in the sand wont change what you are, nor will it stop the world from seeing it."

She felt her shoulders slump. It was something she hadn't wanted to accept, even though deep down she knew it to be true. Being a Queen scared the crap out of her. She didn't think she had the courage to deal with the deadly politicks that came with the position. It was a game of mental chess that was better suited for more cunning, lethal witches. Ones like her sister, who took to ruling like a fish to water, and actually seemed to enjoy the danger that came with it since the purge.

Pearl smiled a little at the crestfallen look on her face. "It's not a prison sentence. We'll take things slow. I'm not tossing you in with the sharks and telling you to fend for yourself."

She reached across the table to grab one of her hands in both of her own. Her skin felt soft and little cool as she squeezed gently. "There's time to prepare you properly. Not nearly enough as I would like, but enough to make sure you're comfortable and confident when you take on you own court."

Elena shook her head, pulling her hand back and crossing her arms. "I don't think I have it in me. I'm not like you."

"Of course you're not like me. And I wouldn't want you to be. I'm stuck in my ways, holding onto a past that's dead and fearful of a the future that may not have room for me in it. The world is changing, so much of it for the worst. But it's witches like you that will be pivotal when the time comes to do something about it and make a stand. You have everything you need to be Queen right here." She pointed at her chest, right over her heart. "The rest will come with time and experience."

Elena worried her bottom lip. This was all so sudden. She hadn't even started preparations to make her Offering to the Darkness to descend to her final Jewel rank yet. She was still a kid in so many ways, sheltered from everything outside the boundaries of the territory she'd grown up in.

"Why now, my Lady? What's changed?"

Pearl sighed. "Queen LaVerna was finally able to bring Black Widow Emily out of hiding by slaughtering the Hourglass coven in Madrid. She has her in custody as we speak."

Elena baulked. That was one of the oldest covens in the European realm. Thousands of witches lived and learned there. All of them gone now. They had to be, because LaVerna's armies didn't leave survivors.

"Why? Why would she need to kill so many just to find one person?"

"Because Emily is the most talented witch at constructing Tangled Webs to date. Queen LaVerna has been searching for her in order to find the truth about the one rumor that keeps her up at night. That  _the_ Witch is born."

She shook her head in disbelief. "But that's just a fairytale."

"Is it?" Pearl arched a brow. "The Darkness will only tolerate being bastardized for so long. It rules us, not the other way around. And if it deems we aren't capable of fixing what we've made wrong, then it will create something or someone who can. She walks amongst us now. Emily saw the vision in her web, and she's never been wrong."

Elena uncrossed her arms to look down at her hands. This was all too much. It was overwhelming and she still wasn't sure what part she played into any of it. If what Black Widow Emily wove was true, that Witch was alive, then where was she? What didn't she stop the Madrid coven from being destroyed. Why was LaVerna still reigning terror across the globe? If she was the Darkness' great fixer, why wasn't she doing her job?

"Careful, least you think too hard and your brain starts leaking out."

She looked up from the palms to see Pearl smiling at her again.

"I don't mean to worry you. But since I'm adding you into the folds of my first circle then it's only right I share this kind of information with you."

Her eyes widened and Pearl's smile turned into a grin. A Queen had many circles, groupings of Blood that she surrounded herself with for protection, all radiating out with her at the center. But her first circle was the most important one. It was the initial one she established, consisting of twelve Jeweled males that were willing to lay down their life to keep her safe. It wasn't unusual for a Queen to ask another witch to be a member of one her circles, but to be asked to be in the first meant she was placing her utter trust in them.

"Seriously?"

"Yes seriously." Pearl nodded. "It's time you start learning the real inner workings of a court if you're going to start building one of your own."

Elena reached up to shoved her hair behind her ears. "Wow. I don't think I know what to say."

"Don't say anything yet. Like I said, we won't rush this."

She stood, walking over to a nearby desk and picking up a folder. "In the mean time, I've set up a private account for you with a weekly allowance. All the information you need to access it is here. I suggest you use it with discretion. We'll meet again in a few days time to go over the finer details of everything. Say Sunday, around noon? I'll have that human restaurant you enjoy so much deliver. The place that serves breakfast all day. Will that work for you or should I reschedule?"

Elena took the folder from her. "Um, yeah. Sunday is good."

"Excellent." Pearl glanced down at the watch on her left wrist. "If you don't leave now you'll be late for your lunch date at the Botanicals. Between now and then I want you to start thinking about who you want in your Triangle. It may take awhile to build your own first circle, but the sooner you have the Triangle completed the better you'll be protected."

"That's a lot harder than it sounds." Elena said.

"True," Pearl said. "But I think you have a good start already. The young man that usually escorts you here seems to have already filled a position without either one of you realizing it."

Elena wrinkled her nose. "You mean my cousin?  _Jeremy_?"

Pearl laughed. "Don't sound so put out. I hear he's quite the clever strategist. He'd make a great Master of the Guard."

"I'll consider him," Elena said as she bent over to place the folder in a messenger bag leaning against her chair. Though what Pearl suggested did made sense. Jeremy did have an uncanny ability to grasp with precision any weapon put in his hands and, despite his loner tendencies, people did look to him for direction.

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to fit. Already overprotective of her, Jeremy would jump at the chance. And they were close. In fact she had a better relationship with him then she had with her sister.

It was the other two parts of the triangle that would be a problem. She already had Alaric in mind for Steward, since he was good at dishing out advice whether is was solicited or not. Though he and Jenna had a baby on the way and he may not be up for it.

But finding a Consort was going to be the hardest. She didn't even know where to began with that. A Consort acted as many things to a Queen: An escort. An ambassador. A lover. It was the closet relationship she'd ever have to a Blood male, and Elena was pretty sure there was no one she knew who could take up the role. A bond between Queen and Consort wasn't one that couldn't be bought or forced.

Mulling it over she shouldered her bag and stood. "I wish I could stay to talk more, but I really must get going. Caroline can be down right evil when people aren't on time."

"It's no problem. It's a beautiful day outside, so please enjoy yourself. If you don't I'll be disappointed."

"Until Sunday then, Queen Pearl." She bowed.

"Yes, until Sunday, Queen Elena." Pearl returned the gesture and Elena was surprised to feel a thrill run through her body at the action. She gave her an awkward smile and rushed for the door, ready to get out of the room and try to process everything she'd learned.

"Oh, and Elena." Pearl called out jsut as she reached the exit.

"Yes, my Lady?" She turned to back to her.

Pearl leveled a serious look her way. "I trust you'll keep what we discussed between the two of us? What I told you about Black Widow Emily?"

"Of course."

She smiled again. "Good. May the Darkness keep you safe."

"As well as you, Lady Pearl."

Elena bobbed her head once more time before stepping out into the hall, shutting the door behind her to lean against it. She took a deep breath and held it in hopes to control the emotions running through her, which were fluctuating from fear to excitement and everything in between.

"Everything alright, Miss Elena?"

She jumped, turning to see Harper standing next to her, his arms clasped behind his back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He said, looking her over with a concerned frown.

She pushed away from the door to stand up straight. "It's alright. I was just lost in thought."

"Hmm." He nodded. "I hear congratulations are in order."

She rolled her eyes and started down the hall, adjusting the strap of her bag as he fell into step with her.

"Of course you know already. You know everything that goes on around here."

"It  _is_ in my job description as Steward," he said.

"So I hear." Elena let out a wry laugh and shook her head. "How would you like escort a girl to the Landing Web and give me advice on who should be my Steward, since you have so much experience with it."

He stopped to bow in her direction, looking up at her with smiling eyes. "I would be delighted to, my Queen."

She cut her own eyes at him before holding out her elbow. "Come on, Prince. I have a lot of questions to squeeze into a short walk.

He linked his arm with hers and together they left the walls of Pearl's sprawling plantation home to be greeted by the blazing afternoon sun.

* * *

Damon had enough lovers in his many years of living to know his preferences. His idea bed mate changed according to his mood but if he was ever forced to settle on one it wouldn't be Katherine, who had an annoying habit of mewling like a damn cat in heat.

He put more pressure on the back of her neck, pressing the side of her face farther into the mattress in hopes of muffling the sounds she was making. Or smother her. Either one would get the desired effect of shutting her up.

His pace was fevered, his hips thrusting into her from behind in a punishing cadence in hopes of getting her off quickly so he could finally get off her. It was the tail end of a three day sexcapade that was stretching even his endurance, which was saying a lot because people didn't jokingly refer to him as The Walking Hard-On without reason.

But Katherine always tested what little patience he had. And 72 hours with her left both his nerves and certain body parts chaffed almost to the point of rawness.

He grimaced, rolling his head back to focus on the sheer fabric of the canopy above him and the gold inlay ceiling that could be seen through it. He had to keep reminding himself that he was here for a good reason. That even though he was sick of the sight, smell and taste of her, Katherine was the only one he could trust at the moment to save his brother's life.

"Oh Damon. Oh  _fuck_!"

She was coming, bless the Darkness.

He gave her a few more half-hearted lunges before shoving her bodily away from him. She was in no position to complain, still moaning away and clawing at the silk bed sheets as her leg muscles twitched with aftershocks.

He turned away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed and stared down at his crotch with displeasure. He hated this part. It always made him feel so damn impotent. There was a certain perverse pleasure that he got from coming inside a woman; a dominating sense of marking his territory. There were worse fetishes to have, he was sure. Not that it mattered because the silver collar he wore prevented him from enjoying that particular aspect of sex. There would be no spilling his seed in just any willing body. Queen LaVerna would be the one to pick the witch with the pedigree she deemed good enough to bare his progeny. Until then he literally had to take matters into his own hands.

A few strokes later and he could feel his semen starting to cool against the skin of his hand and stomach. Frowning, he reached over blindly for the embroidered duvet hanging off the edge of the bed to wipe himself clean.

Katherine started to chuckle behind him as he tossed the soiled bedding away and bent over to rest his hands on his knees. The fire in the hearth had burned down to coals and he thought about relighting it, but didn't even feel up to using magic to get the task done. The chill in the room didn't bother him and she certainly wasn't complaining if her chortling was anything to go by.

"What's so funny, Lady Kat," he asked to get her stop. Her laughter wasn't as grating as her coitus hymns, but it was close enough.

"Nothing," she said in between giggles. "It's just that all these centuries I've been cursing the Salvatore name and all it took was a good dicking down to get me to forgive you. Sex is such a therapeutic exercise."

He found himself chuckling in spite of himself and his present company. "So, does this mean our deal-"

"Yes, Damon," she cut him off and he suspected if he turned to look at her he'd see her rolling her eyes. "It's solidified."

The bed shifted with her weight as she moved and he tensed when he suddenly felt her arms wrap around his middle. That wasn't part of their arrangement. He didn't do cuddling or pillow talk but he forced himself not to shrug her off. He didn't want to upset her just as he was getting what he wanted.

"Where will he be sent?"

Katherine hummed a little, pressing her cheek into his back. "Queen Pearl's territory. She hasn't requested a pleasure slave in the past, but I'm sure she'll take him in once I explain the situation."

He felt a bit of the stiffness he'd been unconsciously carrying in his shoulders since news of his brother's imprisonment lift. Virginia was as safe a place as anyone could get these days. But Stefan had a reputation now, and not a good one. Lady Pearl might not want that type of trouble disrupting the bit of harmony she'd been able to carve out while standing under Queen LaVerna's shadow.

"Are you sure of this? Will she take him despite everything that's happened?" He insisted.

"She's mentoring my brat of a little sister and both of them are afflicted with bleeding hearts." She half said, half mumbled. "She'd help out just to spite Queen LaVerna. Stefan will be safe there. They won't take advantage of his position because of morals or something. Besides, Pearl is quite content with her consort, and Elena wouldn't know what to do with a pleasure slave even he came with a handbook. I'm pretty sure she's still a virgin."

She started planting kisses along his back as she spoke, her tongue swiping out occasionally to play along the ridges of his spine. He repressed a shudder, both repulsed and aroused by her actions, and angry about both because he didn't want to feel  _anything_ when with her.

"I need a guarantee, Katherine."

He felt the breathe of her annoyed exhale against the drying sweat on his skin.

"Yes, Damon. I promise. And a Queen always keeps her promises to a Warlord Prince." Her hand snaked out to wrap around his slowly growing erection. "Now can this whole talking thing be over with? My mouth could be put to much better use."

He grabbed her wrist none to gently to pry her fingers away, tisking in her direction as he stood to look down on her.

"No more of that. My contract was up with you two hours ago. In fact, I put in over time."

She pouted before rolling over on her back to stretch, jutting her breasts out in a manner that would have been appealing to him if he wasn't so disillusioned by everything she was. Though he did take time to admire the teeth punctures and bruises that were starting to form around her wrists, neck, hips, and thighs. Katherine wasn't the lily white pale he was used to seeing on other aristos he had the misfortune of pleasuring. She preferred to maintain a healthy tan year round, despite living in the overcast dreariness that was England. He took special pride in leaving his mark on her olive flesh.

Though it disgusted him at the same time. He'd been a gentleman once, before LaVerna collared him and forced him to play coin-operated boy toy to any witch with a purse large enough.

He huffed out a sigh and started for the bathroom, ignoring Katherine's pleas for him to come back to bed. As he turned the show faucets on as hot as he could stand he closed his eyes and did something he hadn't done in ages; he prayed to the Darkness.

Because he was tired of living this life. LaVerna's slow poison was finally seeping down to where he could feel it, where it burned with hurt and ate away at his soul. And he was afraid if he didn't find his witch soon, the Witch of his most coveted dreams, he'd be lost forever.

* * *

Emily jerked out of the uncomfortable sleep she was in as soon as she heard the door to her cell squeak open.

She scrambled away from the sound as fast as she could, scraping her skin against the uneven concrete ground she'd been laying on. Not that she had much space to move. The room was at the most three feet across and five feet long. Not even enough space for her to stretch out properly, despite her demure height.

She didn't like it when the door opened. Because it meant pain soon followed after, and she had nothing more to offer. She'd woven the only vision she was able to see given the demands that LaVerna had placed on her. No amount of torture could force the Tangled Webs to reveal what it didn't want to be seen.

It didn't stop her imprisoner from trying though. She had the half healed wounds to prove it.

She drew herself up on shaky legs, placing one hand on the wall behind her to keep steady. The cell had no light in it, no windows. But the hallway outside provided it in overabundance, always leaving her blind whenever the door was opened. She squinted, half able to make out the silhouette that stood at the threshold.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you idiots that I can't help you anymore!"

She was surprised at how steady her voice came out, because she was defiantly shaking with not just cold and hunger, but also with fear. There had been no lessons on how to survive an interrogation at her Hourglass coven and she was very much not prepared for the lengths that LaVerna was willing to go to get what she wanted. She'd thought about just letting herself go, pulling what little energy she had left inward to tear apart her own mental webs. It would mean falling into the Twisted Kingdom, that ever spiraling recess of madness that no witch could return from. Once a web was torn and tangled there was no restoring it. Her mind would be nothing but a bundle of sticky, snarled half thoughts, but a least she wouldn't have to feel anymore.

"Tell your Queen that's she's wasting her time with me."

The person standing in the doorway finally spoke. "I'd rather not tell her anything, if it's all the same to you. And it would be prudent for you to keep your voice down, or you might alert the guards that I went through so much trouble to distract."

Emily frowned, backing away farther, pressing against the wall.

"What is this? A trick?" she hissed out.

"No, Black Widow. This is my attempt at an escape. And if we don't hurry then I'll soon be joining you in a neighboring cell."

She licked her dry lips. "How do I know I can trust you?"

The figure shrugged his shoulders. "Do you have any better options?"

She didn't. And that was a testament of how desperate her situation was. She was willing to put her faith in a stranger that she couldn't even see in order to have a chance.

"I… I don't think I can walk."

"That's fine. I will carry you."

Before she could respond she was scooped up into a strong embrace and they were racing down the lighted hallway at a feverous pace that left her dizzy. She closed her eyes, pressing her face into a firmly muscled neck in hopes of keeping her stomach from bringing up what little food she'd been given that day. Though the hint of sandalwood soap left on his skin seemed to help a little.

She didn't know how long they moved, but when they finally came to a stop he sat her down carefully on her feet, keeping a secure grasp on her waist so that she didn't fall.

"It's alright now. We're safe at the moment. You can open you eyes."

She took a deep breath, not willing to do what he said because she was afraid it would all turn out to be a dream. Wherever they were, it was outdoors. She could tell by the fresh, sweet scent of the air that she was smelling. It was too much to hope that she was free from that dark, freezing cell.

"Black Widow-"

"Emily." She supplied.

"Emily, yes. Please open your eyes." He prodded gently.

She did, jerking back as soon as she got a look at his face.

Well, that was being liberal. It was more of a mask then a face. In fact, with the exception of his eyes and mouth, his entire head was covered in silver. There were delicate carvings decorating it in swirling patterns that added an odd beauty to it.

"Who  _are_ you?" She tried to break out of his hold but her legs were a lot weaker than she thought. She would have tumbled to the ground if it wasn't for him. And as his pulled her up straight again, she caught the amusement dancing in his hazel eyes.

"My name is Silas, and it's a pleasure to be in your company, Emily."

**Author's Note:**

> Background Info:  
> \- TDJ series is a matriarchal society, with Queens being the highest in position. Those with Craft (or supernatural in this fic's case) are part of the Blood. All Blood males have an innate need to bond/serve and protect a Queen.  
> \- If a Blood male hasn't found his bond Queen he will often contract out his services until it happens.  
> \- Jewels are used as a separate power reservoir for the Blood who possess more than their bodies can handle. Not all Blood have enough power to wear a Jewel, but they can still wield basic Craft/magic. Those who are strong enough receive their first Jewel during their Birthright Ceremony. The darker the Jewel the more power the person possesses.  
> \- All Jeweled females are considered Witches.  
> \- Both female and male Bloods have a hierarchy (Witch/Healer/Priestess/Black Widow/Queen and Warlord/Prince/Warlord Prince respectively) which will be explained in more depth as the fic continues.  
> \- Those who are familiar with Bishop's work will know that rape is a pivotal part of her series. I don't have time for any of that. I think it's an overused plot device and rape culture has made too many people think it's a justifiable punishment (and/or they get off on it) for to be included in so much fiction (which bleeds into the real world and has all kinds of uncomfortable implications.) But I will be including some dub-con moments to illustrate how a Blood bound male can be abused by a Lady that is willing to manipulate said bond. Just putting that warning out there.
> 
> Other notes of importance:  
> Italicized speech means people are talking telepathically.


End file.
